


won't you keep the lights on?

by sheepyshavings



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, just some good ole fashioned fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 12:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8533696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheepyshavings/pseuds/sheepyshavings
Summary: After a long night at the hospital, Bernie comes home to a surprise from Serena





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarah_dude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarah_dude/gifts).



> This was a gift for the most beautiful of all beauties, Sarah, for her birthday this year. It's my first dive into writing for this fandom, and I'm happy to finally contribute something small. :) I've been in need of some good, solid fluff after the elections this week. I hope this helps out anyone who needs it, as well.

The clock reads something hazy in her vision, something between 12:30 and 12:50. She’s not sure, barely able to keep her eyes open let alone read her damn wristwatch without glasses. She had taken out her contacts in the private bathroom next to the theatre, the plastic case lost in the bottom of her purse along with her car keys. She forgoes her car, hailing a cab off the main road.  
  
Bernie gets a clearer view of the clock in the taxi, 12:53 when she settles in and buckles up, voice a croak as she tells the man where to go. She fumbles with her phone. Her fingers are nearly numb from the long surgery that ended her day. The freezing temperatures outside haven’t helped and her arms from the elbow down feel like they’ve been in a freezer.  
  
“It’s the white building, there.” She gestures vaguely out the window and the driver pulls over. With her coat pulled tightly around her, Bernie hands the driver a few bills, tells him to keep the change, and rushes up the walk to the front door. Mercifully, the house key is in her left pocket instead of the chasm of her bag. She scoots inside and shuts the door firmly behind her, pressing out the last of the cold.  
  
The entryway is a blanket of warmth that brings the life back into her bones. Bernie feels her arms regaining feeling as she grips the wooden handle that takes her up to the second flat. Her boots leave barely a sound against the steps; she’s quite adept at keeping quiet when need be.  
  
The second key is patterned with sunflowers, a copy made in the hopes that lonely nights at her own apartment need not be the only option. The edges are already worn with use.  
  
The door makes a faint creak as it opens, and the room before Bernie is dark. She slips her shoes off and places them next to a variety of sensible black flats. Her coat, white and plain, is hung above.  
  
She lets out a sigh, stretching her arms above her head and hearing her back crack in several places. It feels good to be free of tiled floors and low heels. The carpet crackles with static electric under her socks.  
  
She heads to the kitchen to put on a kettle, and nearly jumps when the light flickers on.  
  
“Oh, lord, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”  
  
Serena chuckles and flips the switch for the kettle. She’s leaning against the counter with her own cup of tea half-empty. Her hair is damp- shower, Bernie guesses from the faint smell of her shampoo- and she’s wearing a bathrobe tied loosely over flannel trousers and matching shirt.  
  
“You’re home later than usual. Fun night, I presume?”  
  
Bernie pulls out a chair and sits, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fun, indeed. Patient arrived just as I was clocking out, ruptured spleen and a piece of metal lodged securely in his chest. Motorcycle accident.”  
  
Serena tuts and sets a teabag into a fresh cup, pouring steaming water into it as the kettle clicks off.  
  
“Always an adventure when you most want to leave. Had to head the surgery, I suppose.”  
  
Bernie takes the cup with both hands, relishing the heat the seeps into her skin. The steam clouds her face and she breathes it in deeply.  
  
“I didn’t want to leave anyone else to head it-“  
  
“Even though they’re perfectly capable,” Serena cuts in, grinning as she sips her tea.  
  
Bernie opens her mouth to speak but Serena tilts her head and raises her eyebrows.  
  
“Am I wrong?”  
  
Bernie sits back and sets her tea on the table. “Maybe not.”  
  
“Major Wolfe, always taking a hit for the team.” There’s no malice in her voice, and whereas the comment may have once stung her, Bernie now smiles across the room.  
  
“And why are you up so late, Miss Serena Campbell?”  
  
Serena abandons her teacup on the counter to move to the fridge. She opens the door, hiding herself from Bernie.  
  
“Well, while you were hands deep in the intestines of some poor bloke at midnight, I had to make sure someone remembered.”  
  
Bernie is about to ask what she means, but the fridge door closes and Serena is standing in the kitchen with a cupcake in hand, a single candle lit on top. The flame flickers as she sets it down on the table next to Bernie’s cup of tea.  
  
“Happy birthday, you proud fool.”  
  
Bernie stares at the cupcake, chocolate with some sort of cream frosting on top and a red heart drawn messily around the candle. It’s sickeningly sweet, and she can’t speak for a second.  
  
“How did you know?” is all she’s able to come up with. She stares at the cupcake for a moment more, then looks up. “I haven’t told you, have I?”  
  
“You know a simple ‘thank you’ would suffice every once in a while.”  
  
Bernie feels her cheeks burn. Serena reaches out a hand and brushes her hair away from her forehead.  
  
“I asked around, perhaps gave Cameron a call after you came back from Kiev. It felt odd, half-living with you and not knowing your birthday.”  
  
Bernie looks back to the cupcake and suddenly feels very foolish, tears welling up in her eyes.  
  
“I-“ she pauses, mouth opening and closing. She’s trying to find the right words.  
  
“Yes?” Serena’s gaze is gentle, the little crow’s feet at the edge of her eyes drawn together.  
  
“Thank you,” Bernie stutters. She takes a breath and blows the candle out. The shadows cease to flicker on the walls.  
  
Serena says nothing, plucking the candle from the frosting and rinsing it under water before tossing it in the bin. She grabs a knife from the drawer next to the sink and two plates from the cabinet with the loose handle.  
  
“Care to have some midnight cake with me?” she asks, placing one plate in front of Bernie and the other in front of an empty chair.  
  
“Yes, that would be lovely.”  
  
—  
  
Bernie insists on Serena taking the larger piece of the cupcake after threats of an arm wrestling competition.  
  
“So how old is the birthday girl today?” Serena asks with a mouthful of frosting. They’ve gone though the first cupcake and are onto their second after Serena revealed she had made almost two dozen after accidentally doubling the recipe.  
  
“You can’t ask me that.”  
  
“I can, too. You can’t be any older than I am.”  
  
Bernie takes her time peeling the wrapping off the outside of her second cupcake.  
  
“Somewhere around 52? I lost count once 40 was over with.”  
  
Serena lets out a barking laugh, and god she’s beautiful, Bernie thinks. And it scares her and makes her want to smile so widely at the same time.  
  
The clock reads 1:56 when they finally decide to roll in for the night.  
  
“Thank you,” Bernie reiterates when they’re lying in the dark under a thick duvet. Serena’s skin is a heater against her, and Bernie basks in the warmth.  
  
“You’re welcome.”  
  
“You didn’t have to stay up for me.”  
  
Bernie can feel Serena turn and can’t tell in the dark, but she thinks she’s on the receiving end of a very cross look.  
  
“And you didn’t have to stay at the hospital until 1 bloody A.M., but it all worked out and would you just enjoy the moment please?”  
  
Bernie wraps her arms tighter around Serena and smiles against her neck.  
  
“Roger that, captain.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Serena brushes her lips against Bernie’s cheek.  
  
“Happy birthday,” she echoes.  
  
Bernie simply returns the kiss.


End file.
